Penny for your thoughts
by Lochness Nova
Summary: SoMa AU- Soul visits a local department store and bickers with Maka, a young worker with plenty of sass. He plans to give her a penny for her thoughts. Update- Wes follows Soul one night and witnesses a sweet exchange.
1. Penny for your thoughts

"I had a crappy guidance counselor", Prompt by all-american-anteater~

This is a little AU that came to mind when I read your prompt ^^ enjoy~

* * *

The rumbling of the engine cut abruptly when Soul pulled out the keys and flipped the off switch. He heaved his body off the bike and made his way to the bright lights spilling from the wide windows of the department store, the only one still open this late at night in his area.

He thanked the shinigami for the existence of twenty four hour shops as he stepped into the automatic sensors with coins jingling in his coat pocket. The cool blast of air from the store that came when the double doors separated along with the soft pop music that echoed into his ears were preferable than wasting gas on frequent joyrides in the desert city, especially when he needed to cool his head. There had been another benefit to this particular shop too.

"Welcome to the Deathpartment store! I'll be in the back until you're ready." A young woman's voice shook the tranquility of the shop.

Soul swaggered, making sure his aloof attitude was intact, to the refrigerated aisles, straight towards the teas and health drinks. As he touched the chilly handle, he spotted the bounce of a pigtail from his peripheral vision. A corner of his mouth twitched into a half smile, betraying his cool appearance.

He swung the door open. "Lipton or Naked."

"Brisk," Maka squatted and went for the pink lemonade, handing the bottle to Soul as she rose.

"One more." He tucked the bottle under his arm and let the fogged door fall into place.

She was already on his other side, reaching for the next drink, "Arizona."

Before she could touch the can of southern sweet tea, Soul snatched the mucho mango and pressed it against her cheek. She squealed, jerking away and rubbing warmth back into her skin, earning a low chuckle.

"You bitch," she pouted, but followed him around the store after retrieving a tan basket from the aisle down anyway, "I'll take your soul next time."

Soul dumped the drinks into the basket and continued to shuffle to the rows of junk food, "You can try but you'll trip over your fat ankles." A swift jab in the ribs unleashed a river of apologies that flowed from his mouth.

Maka blew on her knuckle and smirked, "That's what I thought." She shifted the basket onto her dominant arm and threw in a bag of Takis.

"Why do you have to hit me every time I come in?" He grabbed two bags of jalapeño hot Cheetos, noting that two drinks weren't nearly enough to wash down the fiery hell spawns Maka was gathering.

"Maybe when you stop," stating her rebutted with laughter in her voice.

She didn't know that he used these precious moments with her to escape his miserable household, full with unrealistic expectations and a suffocating life. There was no way she knew how he suffered every day, enduring lessons that molded him into a crisp and cut member of an elite society. She could've never guessed that the many nights where he would stumbled into the store were the nights when his nightmares were worst. His insecurities made their way into his subconscious and reflected in his dark music, forcing him to hide his heart under layers of lies. Maka, his only bubble of joy, a true flame in the dark, had no idea who he was outside of the walls of the store, but she knows who he truly really was, down to his thoughts and actions.

"In fact, shouldn't you be studying if you have all this time to bother me?" she continued to tease him, "As Yeats said, '_Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire_,' a penny for your thoughts."

He rubbed the back of his head, turning a slight shade of pink at the mention of fire, "I had a crappy guidance counselor. Also, I'm not an academic nerd like someone here, always blessing me with her two cents quotes." He tugged one of her pigtails lightly to emphasize his mischievous intentions.

Before Maka could continue their daily bickering, the doors slid open again and the footsteps of two adults echoed to the back where they were at. She glared and shoved the basket into his smug, open hands, "You don't get the last words, Soul. We'll resume this momentarily." She called out her greeting and made her way to the register to make sure someone was there.

Soul continued to browse the rows and when he heard the doors open again, signaling the departure of those others, he walked to the register.

He handed the entire basket to Maka without bothering to use the conveyer belt, "Are BlackStar and Kilik not working today?"

She scanned each item and arranged them in a paper bag, "They're in the back on break, no need to bother them for three customers." She tapped a few buttons on the register and the price lit up on the display.

Soul pulled out a ten and two nickels and placed them into her waiting palm in exchange for the receipt. As he checked it for any mistakes, which never occurred when Maka was on the job, he noticed that she didn't charge him extra for the bag. Not that he had enough to cover it. He was lucky he had the perfect amount with and benefitted from her manipulation. He folded it twice and slipped his hands into his coat pocket, feeling the cool of a single coin and was reminded of his real intentions of tonight. '_Now or never..._'

Maka leaned over the counter and propped her head up with both her hands, "Aren't I an angel?"

He snorted, "Wasn't Lucifer one too?"

"You dick."

His mind fired away at the opening she unwittingly gave, "Hey, did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" she looked down at her forearms genuinely concerned and mumbled, "Did I cut myself while stocking again…"

"When you fell from heaven."

Maka's head shot up and she blinked once, then twice, "Wah?"

"Did I die and go to heaven? 'cause I'm looking at an angel."

"What in the—," her expression was comical.

He threw a hand up and pointed at the ceiling, "I wasn't sure if you were a beautiful angel or a sexy devil, but now that I'm close, I see heaven in your eyes," his voice was laced with sarcasm with that line. '_Now for the finale..._'

Soul reached out to poke her face, holding the coin in his palm. His finger made contact with soft flesh, "Where's the tag that says 'made in heaven'?"

"YOU—"

He caught her fist and smoothed it out, sliding the coin into her warm hand, "A penny for your thoughts." He grabbed the bag of his purchases and bolted out the door, calling out a flustered good bye and sped away into the night in a flash.

* * *

Maka stood there gaping at where Soul used to stand. He was truly a mysterious guy and she was more into him than a young adult mystery novel. Registering a warm coin was in her hand, she furrowed her eyebrows and studied it.

It really was a penny, complete with Lincoln and a copper sheen. There was no significance in the year, no signs of a counterfeit, no duh. She flipped it over, resting Lincoln's face downward, and what she saw next made her heart melt.

In ultra-fine sharpie ink, it read a series of tiny numbers and the words 'yeah?' underneath. It was so open ended, like yeah _what_? _Call me_, yeah? _Let's grab coffee_, yeah? _Just 'cause we've been doing this thing for a while but let's finally exchange numbers,_ yeah? _Let's meet up outside of Deathpartments in a more socially agreeable setting during the real hours of the day_, yeah? **_Let's go on a date, _**yeah? She knew it was Soul's style to let her choose her own interpretation, no doubt willing to agree to whatever she would wanted it to mean. She considered her choices.

A penny for her thoughts indeed.


	2. Piggyback riding

Drunk Soul; SoMa – A prompt by bakalici0us

* * *

Wes followed his little brother, walking for three miles out into the more urban part of town. It wasn't like he meant to do it, he just wanted to make sure Soul was safe.

After a night with the cousins from Italy along with a surprise visit from Gram, Soul had been completely drained of whatever tolerance he had set aside for this event. Once the mixed drinks came out, he had been far too eager to partake in indulging himself in alcohol.

Wes didn't blame him. The onslaught of questions and pressure on his future path must have shaken his very core. Wes knew that his family wasn't perfect, far from it in fact, but Soul didn't deserve the treatment he received from both his direct and extensive family. They expected too much from a boy who wanted nothing else but to be himself.

They cornered him, trapped him, picked and pruned him to be an Evans, a son of one of the most influential families in the country. They controlled his every footstep, every thought, and every action. Wes had endured it all for the sake of simplicity. His easy going nature was too easy manipulate, but Soul was much more fragile. His uniqueness was stomped on and shamed. No wonder he snuck out at night almost as often as the moon was in the sky.

Wes had covered for him more often than not, making sure that several windows were open, doors were well oiled, and that his clothes didn't smell like smoke and the wind. He wanted his precious brother to feel comfortable in his own skin, to accept himself and for others to accept him as well. Wes would protect him from their cruel world for as long as he could.

When Soul excused himself from the hellish gathering, Wes already knew that he was planning to escape again. Later that night, he heard Soul bang the window open- Wes made sure to comment loudly about fresh air.

Wes exited the estate through the back entrance, just in time to see Soul struggling with his bike then resorting to walking when he couldn't hoist himself onto it. So Wes followed his drunk little brother, both because he wanted to keep him safe and because he was curious on where Soul was headed with such determination.

They walked away from the mansions and towards the urbans. The streets were clear and no real danger was close by, except for a raccoon that left as quickly as it appeared. The pedestrian lights seemed to work in favor of Soul that night, turning green just as Soul blearily stepped onto each street. He only tripped once, Wes had been too far away to dive for him but he continued pushed himself towards a seemingly real destination, unfazed by his fall.

When they arrived at parking lot, Soul's hair seemed to gleam a platinum blond from the lights surrounding them. He stood up straight for a moment, pulling his hands out of his pockets and walked with a sense of purpose. Wes stared at Soul's back, a little stunned at what he saw.

Soul looked like a true Evans for a moment- his well-bred figure, his posture, his once snow-white hair dyed blonde by the soft glow of the lot's lights, his light skin, and his aura. It was supposed to be who he was, how Wes Evans' brother was supposed to present himself to the world.

Wes shook his head and looked down at the pavement. That wasn't his little brother. Soul Eater was laid back, never standing that straight and always taking the world in at his own pace. Soul Eater was a man of his own creation, not one bred for an elite society. Soul Eater had beautiful snow white hair and a much darker complexion than this illusion. He was not an Evans.

When Wes looked up at the building they were in front of, he saw it was a very homely department store named "Deathpartment". It was a play on death and department. Wes would have found humor and tucked the tibbit into his mind to bring up during his outings. It had been noted until he saw his brother enter with a slouch.

Soul tripped over his own feet yet again with his arms flailing wildly, but this time, a small girl ran to catch him. She seemed slightly panicked, almost fearful that Soul had almost met the floor.

Now this was interesting, it looked like she knew him. She was too comfortable with holding him in her arms in a protective embrace. She didn't have the guarded eyes of a stranger, rather the gentle ones of an old friend.

Wes crept up closer, ducking just below the windows and kept a safe distance from the sliding doors that were still kept open by Soul and the girl. He listened to their strange exchange.

* * *

Soul looked up at her, a little dazed at how bright she looked. Her hair shone as light bounced off, giving her a halo. "Maka, you're like a real angel today yah know?" Her gorgeous emerald eyes seemed deep enough to drown in. Her vanilla scent wafted all around them and he inhaled it in, content with where he brought himself. "It's like I'm in heaven." Heaven was definitely wherever she was.

"Soul? Are you drunk?" Her lips parted slightly as she whispered. He drank in her voice and every word it spoke. "You're smiling all funny and your eyes are bloodshot, have you been crying? What's wrong?" She was worried about him, him of all people, out of the eight billion others on Earth.

"'S nothing," he tried to wave his hand to dismiss her concerns but she caught it with her own.

"I've been meaning to ask for years, why you only showed up at night and why you always looked sad when you walked in. Now's not a good time, huh," she half chuckled the last word.

The more she talked, the more Soul thought she was a siren, beckoning him out to sea. He would oblige, forever and always. He tried to touch her ethereal face but her grip was too strong, pressing their joined hands against his stomach.

He started to notice where he was with Maka close to him. He was at a store, although everything looked fuzzy except for Maka. Was he interrupting her? "You working tonight?"

She bit her lip- oh death, he loved it when she did that—and glancing down at her work clothes, "Nah I was just… leaving… Come on, wait in the lounge with Black Star ok? I need to change."

She shifted under his dead weight and managed to free herself. She adjusted herself and slid his arm around her shoulders, lifting him up with her. She felt soft but strong, durable even, like a fluffy anchor, a really big—

"Maka, you're a fluffy anchor." He felt his mouth creating awkward slurs.

She sighed, "You are going to be so hung over tomorrow after I get you to my apartment."

"Are we going home now? Good, 'cause your arms are the only home I need."

"Smooth and suave even while plastered as fuck, typical Soul."

* * *

Wes eavesdropped on their exchange. He'd never heard Soul more elated and happy to speak to another person, drunk or sober. He'd never seen any two people look at each other with so much love in their eyes as those two for that matter, drunk and even sober.

Was this really his cold and aloof brother? Who was the boy he watched grow versus the man he followed today?

Wes stood up and retreated to a safer distance. He watched "Maka" and Soul exit through the swinging doors, hand in hand, one tugging the other as they walked. Before they reached the sidewalk, he saw Soul's body collapse, then shortly after, he heard snoring. "Maka" made a sound comparable to a dying cat and poked him, unable to generate a response. She glared at the sleeping form and grabbed the other arm, heaving Soul onto her back.

Wes almost collapsed with laughter. His abdomen cramped from holding itself still. He reached for his smartphone and snapped a picture of his little brother being given a piggyback ride by a petite girl. The image looked like time had stopped. Street lights surrounded them, capturing them their own little world.

Wes went the opposite direction, back to where he came originally came from, and called a cab at the corner of the street. After it arrived, he instructed the driver to the Evans' estate. He grinned down at his new discovery for the nth time and tucked it safely into his pocket. He would text it to Soul when he got home, knowing well that Soul's own phone was in his room and that his little brother wouldn't see it until after he recovered from his hangover.


End file.
